Fight to Survive
by TheLoneClone
Summary: With the world a forsaken wasteland and one of their own members missing, a survivor group from Atlanta must push themselves to the limit to return their lost member back home - and survive the rest of the perils that are thrown at them during their quest to survive. Rated T for violence, mild language, and potential suggestive themes.
1. Chapter 1

_Just run. That's the only thing you need to do. Just run for your life._

Twelve-year-old Sophia Peletier kept running the words in her mind, pushing herself onward. If she gave up even for ten seconds, those...those _things_ \- the walkers - would be upon her. She just needed to press on and return to her friends and family back at the camp.

Every slight rustle in the leaves caused Sophia to jump. If she heard the sounds just a week or so ago, she would've just shrugged it off as an animal on the loose, like a squirrel or a rabbit. Maybe even a deer. But now, on this day, the slightest noise may be the slightest hint towards a walker roaming the woods.

Sophia tugged the doll she had in her hands - a gift from her friend Eliza - closely to her body. The only thing she had right now that reminded her physically of her friends. The only other slightest pieces of remembrance to her loved ones were memories.

And among those memories were the sights of her late father, Ed, flinging his fist about at her mother, Carol. The occasional _crack_ it made against her jaw or arm. Those were the times that made Sophia dislike her father. But, overall, she couldn't hate him. He was, after all, her father, and she grew up loving him, no matter the cruel deeds he did to her or her mother.

She longed to see her mother and her friends again, at least just once more. _I just wish I could see Mrs. Lori, or Mr. Rick. Or Mr. Shane. Or Mr. Daryl._ A smile flashed across her face, recalling the time that Daryl had encountered her once when she was scribbling in her journal. When she called him "Mr. Daryl" - she used the "Mr." or "Mrs." title before everyone's name - he tried to make her call him by his first name only. _Look, Sophia, just call me Daryl. Forget that damn "Mr." stuff._

She decided to do so. It was only one man that she would drop the "Mr." title on it, so it wouldn't be that big of a thing to do.

 _And Daryl. And Mr. Dale. And..._

Suddenly, the one person that she realized she missed more than all the other ones - maybe even her mother - was...

 _Carl. If only I could see Carl once more, then I'd...I'd..._

But she wasn't able to finish her thought. Just as the sentence finished in her mind, the cold grasp that wrapped around her shoulder only allowed for her to let out a cry of fear and worry.

* * *

Rick Grimes, former Sheriff's Deputy, snapped his head around at the sound of the scream.

"That was Sophia! I know it was!" The excited voice of Carl, Rick's only child, trailed off as the twelve-year-old boy darted in the direction of her shouts. "Carl! Hold on!" Rick yelled out, drawing his silver Colt Python. He turned to the trio of survivors that stood at his side. "Shane, Daryl, Glenn. Come with me."

He looked over his shoulder to two other survivors, the dark-skinned, muscular man T-Dog and the pretty, young Andrea Harrison. "T-Dog, you and Andrea go back and tell the others we've picked up on something." He held up an index finger. "Just do _not_ let Carol go off. If we find Sophia..."

He struggled for the last word: "...dead, then she'd panic and possibly even die. Just let us find her and we'll come back with either good or bad news."

T-Dog nodded soberly. "Understood." Quickly, he and Andrea trotted off towards the direction of their group's camp. Rick turned back to Shane Walsh, his dark-haired, solemn law enforcement partner, and nodded. "Let's go." As marksman Daryl Dixon, with his sleeveless shirt showing his bare arms, notched a bolt in his crossbow, Shane shoved his shotgun into one hand. "What about Carl?"

Rick turned to look at Carl, letting out a sigh. "I guess he'll come too. He's the one that wants to find Sophia the most, I believe." Shane nodded, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Well, come on, young Mr. Grimes. Let's go find your girlfriend."

In quick retaliation, Carl jumped away. "Huh?! _Girlfriend!?_ Where'd you get that from?" Shane and Rick merely chuckled as they led the way to Sophia's direction, hoping and praying that she was still alive.

* * *

 **Here's chapter 1 of my new** ** _Walking Dead_** **fanfic! This adventure will be picking up after Sophia disappears from the group. But will she be alive to see her friends and mother once again? Thanks for reading, and please, leave your thoughts in the reviews and favorite and follow!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sophia lurched forward, spinning around. Sure enough, the hand that had grasped her belonged to one of the undead walkers. It let out a ghastly roar, slowly staggering forward. Sophia turned around, only to see a pair of walkers climbing from their places of slumber in a ditch on the side of the road.

Quickly, mustering her strength, Sophia sprinted past the duo of bloodthirsty beings and made for a safe haven.

As she ran, Sophia saw that multiple other walkers were joining in her pursuit. _Please, dear God, let me make it! PLEASE!_ After she prayed her silent prayer in her mind, Sophia continued to run until she was cut off by a walker, who had stumbled onto the path and cut her off.

Sophia skidded to a stop, clutching her doll tightly. The walker slowly turned its head to stare directly at her, emitting a raspy bellow. It started to move towards her slowly; she kept her distance and continued to back up, until she felt something on her back. Turning, she saw one of the walkers from before directly behind her. Jumping back, she turned to run...

...only for the undead beast to snatch a hold of her doll and tug on it, strongly.

Sophia turned, yanking back. She knew that it wasn't wise to be struggling with a walker hand-to-hand; if it pulled her in close enough, she wouldn't need to worry about running back to her mother.

After passing her choices through her mind, Sophia finally decided upon a choice as tears began to drip from her eyes. She reluctantly let go of the doll, taking off on a run into the opposite direction.

The only thing she had left of her friends cluttered to the ground as the walkers continued to pursue the young, auburn-haired girl.

* * *

Rick, Shane, Carl, Daryl, and Glenn stopped as they saw the multitude of undead zombies marching down the leaf and dirt-covered road. "I don't know if there's a high chance that she made it out of that," Glenn observed, keeping his hand tightly wrapped around his pistol. Shane sighed, turning. "We're probably just hunting down a ghost," he said, marching towards a nearby tree. He placed his shotgun down, removing the bottle of water from his pocket.

After taking a gulp, Shane looked down to see Carl standing there, his father's sheriff's hat lying tilted over his dark-haired head. "You really think she's dead?" he asked surprisingly, his hands lying limp at his sides. Shane cocked his head to one side, then looked back to Carl. "Look, Carl, I know that you want more than anything to find her. But just listen to me: What are the chances of a twelve-year-old kid making it on her own out in that hell we're living in?"

Carl didn't bother to answer. "I don't care what you think. She's out there, and I know it!"

Shane sighed again, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Carl. It's just that there's no reason for us to go out looking for her if she's dead." Carl huffed, looking down to the ground. "But she's _not_ dead," he muttered under his breath, turning on his heel.

As the two rejoined the other three members of their team, Daryl pulled Shane aside a little behind the others. "What the hell are you tellin' that kid? You ain't doing any good by pressing with your thoughts that Sophia's dead!" Shane stopped, clutching his shotgun tightly. "I just say what sticks out as the truth," he sternly spoke, staring at the crossbow-wielder. "Understand that?"

Daryl doesn't answer; he just simply stares at the police officer, his weapon in his hands. "Fine. But whatever you do, don't do anythin' to mess this up. Do _you_ understand _that_?"

Shane simply stood staring at the woods as Daryl marched past him, his blood boiling. Sure, he wanted to find Sophia and return her to her mother. But what were the chances that a little girl was still alive and running about in this mess? Shane didn't know the exact percentage, but he knew it was pretty slim.

As he rejoined the group, Shane overheard Carl and Rick conversing with one another. "I'm going to be the one to find her, Dad. I'm gonna find her and bring her back." Rick chuckled, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder. "I know, son. I know you will."

* * *

At the RV owned by Dale Horvath, which was parked on the road, Lori Grimes and Carol Peletier - the mothers of Carl and Sophia respectively - were folding the clothes they had just finished cleaning. "Do you think they'll find Sophia?" Carl asked. From redness in her eyes, one could tell that Carol had been crying her heart out over the loss of her one and only child.

Lori smiled, placing a hand on Carol's shoulder. "I'm sure they will. They're all very capable men." The image of Carl marching with the four survivor men made her smile. "And young men." Carol looked up to Lori, and then chuckled. "Oh, Carl. He and Sophia have grown very close while this whole... _mess_ has started." Lori nodded, folding up one of Carl's T-shirts. "Yeah. It's a good thing that he's got at least _somebody_ to spend his free time with. Someone his own age who he can relate to."

Carol nodded in agreement. "I just hope he'll have her to turn to many more times."

* * *

 **Here's chapter 2! Hope you guys enjoyed it! I was thinking about putting the characters from the Telltale video game series into it as well; tell me if you'd like to see them play into this story! Please leave your thoughts in the reviews, and favorite and follow!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I just noticed in the last chapter the horde of zombies just disappeared...I have no explanation for that other than my ignorance. For now, we'll just say that the five survivors walked past the walkers. Sorry for the slip-up in my writing!**

* * *

Sophia darted up the grassy hill that was directly before her, looking down to see...a shack! As a smile spread across her young face, Sophia ran down the hill and made for the wooden shack.

She skidded to a stop directly outside the small building's door. _Please don't let there be a walker in here, please don't let there be a walker in here..._ Sophia thought to herself as she slowly opened the door. Peeking inside, she spoke softly: "Hello? Is there anyone in here?" No answer. It must be empty...or no one's making any noise.

The young girl walked inside the building, closing the door behind her. The sun's light shined in through the glass windows, illuminating the inside of the cabin. Which was a good thing, considering she had no other lighting source to use inside the small building that was now her only hope of survival. Her only safe haven, if you could call a small shack a safe haven.

Sophia looked around, her eyes picking up every little detail they noticed. A wooden table pressed up against one of the larger windows, with two chairs beside it. They were both pulled out; whoever was sitting in them must've had to jump out in a hurry. There were two books placed in a stack on the table, pressed against the wall; _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_ and another, newer book. Sophia turned her head to look further into the cabin. "Hello? Is there anyone in here?" she asked again. Still nothing.

But then, she could've sworn she heard something shift deeper into the shack. From its size, there must be only one or two more rooms. Sophia began to wonder whether it was a walker, a survivor, or an animal further into the building's shadows.

She hoped it was anything besides a walker. The animal wouldn't - at least _most likely_ wouldn't attack her - and the survivor may have pity on a lonely, surviving girl who had to seek shelter in a cabin.

A walker wouldn't show any sympathies.

* * *

Daryl stopped in the path the group had taken around the horde of walkers. "I don't hear anything out there," Glenn noted, gripping his pistol tightly. Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah...maybe we've gone on past 'em," he suggested, keeping the stock of his crossbow pressed against his shoulder. Rick drew his silver Colt Python, aiming it outward. "Well, there's only one way to find out," he said, stepping out from behind the tree they were hidden behind.

Nothing was on the main path. Shane looked down the way they had come from. Nothing. Not a walker was in their sights. "We must have gotten past them," he announced, lowering his shotgun. He turned to Rick. "Yet we still have no sign of the girl. How much further are we going, Rick?"

It was Daryl who spoke up next. "Look, I don't care what any of you do, but I'm not ending my search for Sophia until we find her, dead or alive. If you want to go back to the rest of 'em at the RV, that's fine by me. Just let me know how her mama takes it when you tell her you gave up on her daughter."

He turned his back on his four companions, marching off on his own. "Daryl," Rick spoke, not wanting to attract attention from walkers. "Daryl!" But the redneck crossbow-wielder didn't stop or come back.

"That stubborn bastard," Shane cursed, turning to look back down the path they came. "So, what do we do, Rick? Go back, or do we continue this hunt for Sophia? Whether or not she's still alive." Rick huffed, looking down to his son. Carl looked up to him, his blue eyes begging him to choose the latter of the two choices Shane had provided.

"We continue on, until nightfall at least. Then we go back and start again."

Shane marched towards Rick. "Wait, what? Your sayin' we're gonna come back here _tomorrow_ if we don't find her? That's crazy, Rick. We'll be checking the same ground again and again."

Rick shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Shane. We can't just leave one of our own behind unless we know for certain that they're dead." He placed a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Come on, Carl. Let's go. We don't want to waste any time."

The four started on once again, Shane dragging behind.

* * *

The lone man walked down his lone path, his crossbow aimed expertly. He was searching for anything that would lead him to discovering Sophia and returning her to her mother.

Daryl couldn't understand Shane's attitude. He seemed as if he _didn't_ want to find Sophia.

Suddenly, something caught his eye buried under the leaves on the path. _Sophia's doll._ Daryl bent down to pick the discarded doll up. He recognized it as the toy that Eliza Morales had given to Sophia before she and her family had left the survivor group. Sophia had cherished that thing, and she had to be devastated with losing it.

Daryl's eyes suddenly widened. _She wouldn't leave this behind willingly...somethin's happened to her!_

Quickly, Daryl stood up and began to run off up a nearby hill. As he stood on the top, scanning the surrounding area, he caught sight of a shack down in the woods below. "Maybe she went in there," Daryl mumbled to himself, but was suddenly cut off as a strong force pummeled into his back, sending him rolling down the hill.

After emitting a handful of grunts and slamming into a tree trunk at the bottom of the hill, Daryl stood to his feet, only to see a walker stumbling to its feet; it must've slammed into him and knocked him down the hill.

"Come on, ya maggot!" Daryl yelled, raising his crossbow. Before he could fire a bolt, however, he felt another pair of arms grab him from the side. Spinning, he saw the second walker with its open jaws coming at him. He swiftly slammed with the butt end of his crossbow, smacking the undead being in the rotting chin. That didn't, however, stop its attack. Daryl aimed his weapon, firing off the bolt loaded into it. The shaft slammed into the walker's eye socket; Daryl watched as the dead creature slumped over in a heap on the ground.

Turning, Daryl was met by the other walker. The beast slapped with a clawed hand, scratching Daryl's right arm and sending his crossbow flying into a nearby bush. Daryl yelled out a curse as the beast tackled him into a nearby tree.

Daryl tore his knife from his waistband, jabbing at the walker. He was able to skim its arm, but he didn't touch the skull. The walker jumped at him, sinking its teeth down into his chest.

Letting out a scream, Daryl collapsed backwards, his knife out of reach. He reached down to his hip for the pistol he had brought with him, and was thankful once he felt the cool grip in his sweaty palm. Swinging with his right fist, Daryl punched the zombie on top of him to the side. Tearing the pistol from his belt, Daryl took careful aim and fired a bullet into the creature's brain, ending its reign of terror.

Daryl let out a sigh, lowering his gun. However, he instantly realized he had made a mistake in firing the sidearm: the nearby roars of the walkers clarified it. He darted towards the location where his discarded crossbow lied in the grass. Snatching it up, he returned his pistol to his belt and reached for a bolt to notch into his weapon, just as a trio of walkers stumbled from the woods.

The marksman quickly took precise aim and fired, sending the bolt into the head of one of the walkers. As it collapsed to the dirt, Daryl grabbed another bolt and followed the same procedure that he used with the last, downing another one of the undead beasts. Smiling, he reached for a third bolt - and felt nothing but air. "Well...that's just damn great," Daryl solemnly spoke, his eyes narrowing on the two arrows impaled into the walkers lying dead on the ground. Quickly, he began to run towards them in a hope that he may be able to snatch them up and use them to his desires.

The survivor darted for the closest corpse, his hand stretched out to catch it. As he felt the cold beam on his fingertips, Daryl placed his foot on the dead walker's back, pulling hard. A loud _snap_ was heard as Daryl yanked the bolt out, turning to the other zombie. He did the same, now holding two arrows in his hands. Realizing that the living walker was coming for him, Daryl turned to run for a better position...

...only to trip and fall, one of the bolts falling under his gut as he collapsed, impaling him.

* * *

 **Here's the new chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you liked what you read, please follow and favorite, and leave a review with your thoughts!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl muttered a curse as he rolled onto his back, the black shaft of his crossbow bolt jutting from his stomach. The walker was approaching quickly. The redneck reached down to his belt for his pistol, which was tucked in snugly.

As he tore the weapon away, Daryl squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet flying in the walker's skull, followed by another. Daryl knew he didn't have to use the second shot, but why the heck not?

He groaned as he lied back down on the ground, feeling the light stream of blood trickle down into his waistband. He looked down, only to see a dark stain reddening his shirt. "Why'd I have to run for a better position...I shoulda just shot it with my pistol or somethin'."

As he gazed at the arrow's wound, another injury caused him to let out a long, gloomy sigh: the zombie's bite. "Oh no..."

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Shane asked, his shotgun held tightly. Rick, Glenn, and Carl all nodded. "Yeah...gunshots," Glenn observed. Carl turned on his heel, running the direction of the shots.

"Carl! Hold it!"

But Rick's yells didn't make Carl slow his run. Rick began to pick up his speed until he was right alongside Carl. He stretched out with a hand, placing it on Carl's shoulder. "Hold on, son! You can't just run off like that. For all we know, it could be a horde of walkers." But Carl wasn't showing any signs of response, other than his struggling.

"Dad, come on! Daryl could need our help. He could've found Sophia!"

Rick sighed, rolling his eyes. "That's a large _could've_ , Carl." Shane placed his shotgun against a tree. "Yeah, Carl, he _could've_ found a horde of walkers. Hell, _SEVERAL_ hordes, knowing that guy."

Carl looked up to Shane, and then back down to his feet. From behind Shane, Glenn spoke. "Guys...I think I see something."

The other three survivors all turned at Glenn's announcement, gazing down into a small, open piece of land in front of a shack, peppered with trees and bushes. They all saw instantly what made Glenn speak of it: there were six bodies lying down in the opening. One looked oddly familiar...

"It's Daryl!" Rick exclaimed, beginning to trot down the hill with his Colt drawn. Shane followed closely, his shotgun cocked and ready to fire. Carl and Glenn followed behind the former police officer.

Shane and Glenn kept their weapons aimed at the walkers on the ground, making sure they were, in fact, dead. Rick and Carl ran to Daryl's side. "Daryl? Daryl!" Rick spoke, shaking the injured redneck. Carl's eyes lingered on the wounds on his new friend's torso. Daryl turned his head slightly to Rick. "Well...if it ain't Ranger Rick," he chuckled. Rick offered a smile before turning attention to Daryl's wounds. "What happened?" he quizzed.

Daryl waved at the injuries. "Ah, I tripped on a damn rock and fell into my damn arrow." His eyes quickly jumped up to Carl, and then back to Rick. "Erm, sorry." Carl didn't seem fazed. "Don't worry. I've heard swearing before." Rick's eyes rested on Carl a moment before turning back to Daryl. His eyes caught sight of the bite mark on his chest. "Don't tell me..."

The redneck reached for the buttons on his shirt. "I don't really feel anythin' on my chest." Rick felt relaxed to see no sign of punctures on Daryl's bare chest. "That's a relief," he said, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder. He hadn't noticed that Carl had disappeared from his side. And neither man had noticed that Carl had grabbed Daryl's discarded sidearm.

Or the fact that Carl was standing at the door of the nearby cabin, ready to enter. Ready to face whatever may be inside.

* * *

Sophia crept slowly into the next room. "Hello? Is anyone back here?" More shifting sounded, followed by what sounded like something falling over. Sophia jumped a little. "H-hello?"

Something pounded on the wooden floor of the cabin. Sophia took a few cautious steps back. They sounded like something was running, but they didn't sound loud enough to be the feet of a walker or a survivor. Yet Sophia's mind could be playing tricks on her. Suddenly, something sounded behind her: The door!

The young auburn-haired girl spun around, her eyes on the doorknob on the right-hand side of the wooden door. It slowly began to open as a light began to illuminate the cabin. A figure stood at the doorway.

Sophia let out a gasp and stumbled back. _Is that a...a walker?!_

Suddenly, a voice that was awfully familiar filled the cabin. "H-hello? I-is there anyone in here?" The stuttering told Sophia that Carl Grimes was afraid, too, yet he still took a few steps forward.

"Carl!" Sophia shouted out, jumping forward. The twelve-year-old boy jumped up, accidentally slamming the door behind him shut. Familiar voices outside the shack yelled out Carl's name. Before they could enter, however, Sophia had already wrapped her arms around Carl's neck and was laughing happily. "I'm so glad you came! I thought I'd never see you...I mean, I thought I'd never see _any_ of you ever again!"

She wasn't sure if Carl had noticed her change of words, but she hoped that he hadn't. Carl let out a chuckle that showed his confusion at the turn of events. "I-I'm glad I came too, Sophia. I'm glad you're all right."

The words made Sophia feel warm inside. They made her aware that someone - someone she cared deeply about - was worried for her as well. Someone other than her mother, that is.

"Is my mom all right?" she asked, slowly stepping back from Carl. Before he could answer, the cabin's door flung open. Shane Walsh, Sheriff's Deputy of King's County, burst in, aiming his shotgun. "What hap-" he started, before being cut off by the two young children's eyes resting upon him. Rick and Glenn followed closely behind, their handguns brandished in the sun's light. Up behind them hobbled the injured Daryl Dixon, who made sure that his crossbow was tightly clutched in his hand.

"Sophia!" Rick exclaimed as the girl darted to him, jumped onto his chest. "Mr. Rick! Am I glad to see you," she said, giving each of her rescuers a hug. "I-I thought I'd never make it back to you all," she said, rubbing her eyes. She acted as if the tears had not begun to swell up in her eyes. Glenn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Your mother's been worried sick," the Asian pizza delivery boy said, smiling. "Won't she be glad when we show up with you."

As Rick, Sophia, Glenn, and Carl exited the cabin, Daryl nudged Shane with his elbow. "How do ya feel now, Shane, now that we found out that Sophia _was_ alive? Huh?"

Shane simply grunted a response as he marched out. Daryl chuckled as he made his way out the doorway. "Hey now! I may be a tough-as-nails redneck, but I sure as hell need some help goin' back to the RV!"

* * *

Andrea lowered the rifle she was holding and smiled gleefully as the six familiar figures approached the RV. "Guys...you've gotta see this!"

The eldest of the group and owner of the RV itself, Dale, jumped out, a handgun drawn and aiming wildly. "What was that?!" he barked, looking up to Andrea. She waved down to him. "Aw, put that gun away! Rick's coming back."

Carol came from the RV's door next at the mention of Rick's return, followed by Lori. "Rick's back?! Does he have Sophia?" she asked, hopefully. Andrea could easily tell that if the answer were to be no, then Carol would've broken down right there and possibly wouldn't have gone back to normal. Ever. Andrea smiled. "Go see for yourself."

Lori and Carol ran towards the hill where Rick and Glenn now appeared, followed by Shane, a limping Daryl, Carl, and...Sophia!

 _"Sophia!"_

Carol's yell echoed across the wooded area the survivors were currently camping in, but none of them cared: It didn't matter as long as Carol and Sophia were reunited.

The two embraced for a long while as the group watched in happiness; even Daryl had a rare grin on his face. Ever since his brother Merle had disappeared, he hadn't shown the littlest sign of a human inside. Maybe this moment was the start of a whole new happiness inside Daryl Dixon.

Lori and Dale marched over towards Rick, Shane, Glenn, and Daryl. "What happened to you?" Lori asked, nodding to Daryl. The redneck sneered. "I'm surprised you even care." She rolled her eyes, resting her hands on her hips. "Just answer me." Daryl chuckled, to no one's amusement. "I fell on one of my bolts while I was runnin', okay?"

Lori hadn't really approved of Daryl's...crude ways once she had first met him. But, over time, she had grown to be fond of him. Even still, however, she gave him a cold, icy stare once he swore around Carl and Sophia. Sometimes, she thought he did stuff like that just to poke at her.

"Well, come on in. We'll get it out."

Daryl's wide eyes showed his surprise at her statement. "Man...I really _am_ surprised, now!" Lori let out a slim smile as he limped towards the RV.


End file.
